I Am No Angel. Struggles of Identity in Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights

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HSL Faculty

I Am No Angel

Struggles of identity in Jane Eyre and Wuthering heights

—

Cecilia Ulriksen

Master’s thesis in English literature ENG-3992 May/2019

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Through the history of humankind, we have originated, developed and refined the spoken and written language in order to create communities with our fellow human beings, to understand each other and in order to achieve a higher ability to fathom the depths of our own complex inner lives. Although language is seen as an important aspect of conveying emotion,

intention, and a plethora of other facets of everyday life, there exists a word which has, and still does, inspire countless debates and arguments over subjects such as how one would define its meaning. With millions of words available to describe even the most diminutive fraction of self-experiences, it is – perhaps ironically – the word used for describing what constitutes self, which sparks so much conversation. That word is “identity”. This word is supposed to hold all the characteristics which make a person precisely who they are.

However, it is natural to ask; what are these characteristics? In the definition, the defining moment seems lacking, leaving it up to the individual reader to determine how they will fill in the meaning for themselves. Fascinatingly enough, one might see this as a perfectly captured definition of identity. It is idiosyncratic; it evades clear definition because identity is not something one can epitomize to the point where every single person will agree with it,

because everyone will have different characteristics, different outlooks and different opinions.

The task of determining how one will treat identity, especially in the context of writing and analysing, can seem a daunting one. For centuries, authors have conceptualized their feelings on the subject in narratives which have survived to become important works on the subject, not because it is the defining text on the subject, but due to its ability to evoke a feeling of familiarity with its readers, where they feel a connection with the emotions the texts seeks to elicit. In the collection of works considered valuable and included in the canon, the Bronte sisters have produced several novels which can be considered to be incredibly useful on the subject of identity.

This thesis will utilize the marvellous works of the Bronte’s in order to explore not only how identity forms in literary characters, but also how it is either broken down or preserved. For this particular work, we will focus on Charlotte and Emily’s novels Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights, with their respective main characters Catherine and Jane. The reason for omitting

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Anne and focusing on her two arguably more successful sisters in terms of canon visibility is that the two novels chosen have a particularly engrossing synergy with each other and with the topic. This synergy will allow for a finer analysis, and the discarding of one of the three sisters is necessary for a deeper delve into the topic, avoiding the problems of shifting too often between works and instead being able to focus the argument in a clearer, more interesting manner for both writer and reader.

There is also the question of why one would pick the Bronte’s to begin with, especially considering the large volume of research and analysis conducted around their works. One important reason is that The Bronte sisters existed in an intriguing time when considering the Victorian society’s stricter conventions than earlier centuries, especially pertaining to women.

Tony Tanner explores this in his article “Passion, narrative and identity in Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre” where he notes how “They put on narrative masks and revealed feelings and problems and inner contestations which could never surface in Haworth Priory.” In a society where women and men were expected to uphold certain virtues, Charlotte and Emily

disguised themselves with male pseudonyms in order to explore characters that did not fit with the contemporary ideals, lending an even greater power to their narrative. In order to weave the intricate souls of the characters which have embedded themselves to such an impressive degree in the collective contemporary culture, a component of the core of their stories had to be left out for it to be initially published, namely identity.

These are a few primary reasons as to why these works were chosen to be paired with this specific topic. As mentioned earlier, while countless talents have contributed immense works which have a lot to say on the subject of identity, there is a resplendent understanding of human nature and desires present in these works, which lends it beautifully to be explored through this topic. When Jane passionately exclaims to Rochester “I am a free human being with an independent will” or when Catherine – close to dying - asserts that “I shall be incomparably beyond and above you all” one can truly feel how the desire to assert

themselves has become a driving force behind their narrative. There is an ardent desire to hold on to their identities in a world which seems unrelenting in its rules and restrictions.

The question is then: which specific steps will the thesis take to demonstrate how Jane and Catherine build their identities, and how they have to strive to maintain them? Firstly, this will be accomplished through analysing narrative choices and characterization, specifically

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how the women characterize themselves versus how they are characterized and treated by other characters within the narrative. With both novels lacking the third person omniscient narrator, there is a considerable sphere in which identity can play a significant role. Tanner comments on the narration choice in Wuthering Heights with the following statement:

“between us and the experience of Catherine and Heathcliff there is Lockwood's journal and Nelly Dean's voice - a text and a tongue, thus effecting a double translation, or refraction of the original story. Catherine and Heathcliff are as far as possible away from the narrative, and they recede into terminal dissolution when nothing can be narrated because nothing can be differentiated. They become rumour and legend as they cease to be corporeal identities”.

(Tanner, 2)

Thus, when one examines Catherine’s character, she appears trapped in in a sort of nesting narratology where other characters control her characterization. Unable to manifest a healthy independent identity, her character succumbs to madness and a splintering of identity which ultimately kills her. Tanner has expertly pointed out that when a story cannot provide its characters with the ability to recount their experiences truthfully; those characters seem destined to fail within the story, subject to obliteration due to the agendas of other characters, leaving them, and especially Catherine, a ghostly, intangible being, both literally and

metaphorically. When Lockwood spends the night at Wuthering Heights, he is subjected to an apparition of Catherine, but he also studies the many ways in which she has written her name.

From the very start of the novel, it is made abundantly clear that Catherine as a character is one without that vital ability to maintain her own identity, and is seemingly being set up to fail from the beginning. She is never presented as a flesh and blood human, but rather as the result of what the narrative ultimately makes her.

On the other hand, the narrative choice in Jane Eyre might be what saves Jane from meeting a similar end to Catherine, as her first person narration differs greatly from Emily’s novel.

There seems to be a general consensus that Jane always maintains the ability to defend herself because she retains control of the information available to the reader

There is an argument made by Tanner, where he claims that:

“ Jane Eyre - a potentially passionate girl with some experiences not unlike her creator's - tells her own story not only in but on her own terms. Her narrative act is not so much one of

retrieval as of establishing and maintaining an identity. She survives. She is her book.”

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Here, Tanner demonstrates how Jane survives much of the same pressure applied to her as it is to Catherine because she lives in her narrative in a way that Catherine does not, and cannot.

A central component of being able to form an identity and keep it in any context would be to have a way of conveying one’s specific thoughts or perceived truth on matters arising through one’s life. When this ability is stolen from Catherine, her identity evidently buckles, having no outlet in the way that Jane is able to.

On that note, what does constitute the attacks on identity which befalls both of these characters? This is something I intend to demonstrate through analysis of the spaces which the characters exist in, their homes, what they wear and their social positions. I will aim to show how the two main female characters struggle to form and maintain a stable and truthful identity not only due to their position in relation to the narrator, but also because of their existence in a society where one’s position sets the expectations for how they may be permitted to inhabit certain domestic or public spaces.

Victorian society was indeed a society which would undergo massive amounts of change not only with the industrial revolution being well underway, but also socially, with classes becoming more diffuse with the upcoming newly rich not based in nobility. There was also a shift in the way women were perceived in society. In his work The Death of Christian Britain, Callum G. Brown makes several sharp observations on the changing of women’s roles in society and how it connects to their daily lives. While masculinity had reigned in religious imagery and was what anyone should aspire to be, the 1800’s presented a shift in that thinking. Women and femininity became ¨highly pietised, and “In the context of the

Enlightenment, urban-industrialisation and the formation of a class society, ‘separate spheres’

for men and women emerged to impose domestic ideology as a heavily religious and moral discourse on angelic confinement from the public sphere.” (Brown, 59).

The conflict between wanting to be a free person while also being expected to conform to the new, feminine ideals can be seen very clearly in both Jane and Catherine. It is interesting to note that while Jane can be said to resist both male and female roles of the time, realizing that society wants her to conform to very limited ideals of womanhood. She longs for “action in life, like a man can have” and reads adventurous books, but also recognizes the value of feminine qualities such as it may be presented in characters such as Miss Temple. Jnge

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comments that in a society rife with paradigms “Jane cannot rely on conventional concepts and imagery to define her” (Jnge, 15). Thus, instead of conforming to what is expected, however, she resists, and grows into the qualities which she deems defines herself in a more suitable way, which aids her in maintaining her identity, as her selfhood is not relying upon the idea of a woman being either or in their existence. As such, she very much follows the thinking of Beauvoir when she stated that “essence does not precede existence: in pure subjectivity, the human being is not anything” (Theory and Criticism, 1269).

Catherine, on the other hand, seems to get much more caught up in this struggle than Jane.

This could largely be attributed to the fact that the reader is not privy to her true thoughts and feelings, having to discern them through two different narrators. Nevertheless, Catherine’s identity suffers greatly as she balances between the male and female ideals, much like Jane does. She rambles about with Heathcliff on the moors and behaves much like a boy, but her stay at the Linton’s mark a change in her character. Suddenly she is considerably more feminine, dressing better according to the standards of the time, and avoiding spending too much time with her former friend. Still, the question of how much of these behaviours reflects Catherine as a person remains open for discussion. Her marriage to Linton seems merely one of convenience, as she states that her feeling of love will always be with Heathcliff. However, Catherine does seem to enjoy the benefits of inhabiting the domestic sphere as expected of her, at least for a time. Her character is never fully at ease in this sphere, especially after Heathcliff returns. Catherine finds herself stuck between her own desires, but also her inclination to fall into the expected for the sake of protection, wealth and status. Her conflict with how to move through spaces designed to mould her into a certain image is a large part of what ultimately shatters her last remnants of identity, slinging her into apparent madness and ultimately death.

Similarly, there is also an important conflict occurring where a reader might not expect it.

Surprisingly, Jane and Catherine have to constantly struggle to uphold themselves in the company of Heathcliff and Rochester. The person they supposedly love above all else is a constant source of their identity being questioned or attacked. While Tanner may have portrayed Catherine and Heathcliff as being together in the effacing of their identities, Heathcliff is not above engaging in what philosopher Hegel refers to in Phenomonology of Spirit as a battle for dominance, or a battle to the death with Catherine. The same can be said for Jane and Rochester. Both men proclaim that they see their partner’s soul better than

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anyone else, that they are the only one capable of discerning their true identity. Paradoxically, they are also in a major part responsible for destroying or nearly destroying their loved ones.

Rochester continuously refers to Jane as an elf, sprite or other unearthly being, effectively

“othering” her while proclaiming to be only interested in her soul. Similarly, Heathcliff condemns Catherine’s choice of marrying Linton, exclaiming that she has damned herself by not choosing him. The reason why Hegel’s work Lordship and Bondage is being utilized to expose the dynamics between these four characters is because the work originates from the idea that for a self-consciousness to be fully realized, it requires acknowledgement from another self-consciousness.

Briefly put, the reason why both relationships have been argued by many to be destructive or toxic can be argued to be because all characters are striving to be recognized, but according to Hegel they will ultimately fail, and no equality can exist due to the fact that one party will always end up the dominant, while the other ends up subservient. This also plays back to the conflict of the feminine idealization, as women were expected to be placid and remain in their designated spheres. As a result, while recognition by another consciousness is not presented in this thesis as the only way of obtaining a stable, realized self, there are tendencies in the narrative which resonates strongly with Hegel’s argument.

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Chapter 1 – The importance of voice

A necessary question to ask before embarking on a rather extensive analysis of identity in these two Bronte novels is; how does one even handle the subject of identity? With so many definitions existing within several different fields, whether it is literature, psychology or even social science, which definition will be most appropriate to apply for this specific thesis?

Considering that one of the main questions I will be exploring is the impact of performed versus lived identity, it seems most appropriate to use not only Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble for the way in which it deals with this specific topic but also an additional source, which talks about the nature of being a woman. For this initial chapter, we will not be relying heavily on Butler – her work will be more prevalent in chapter two - but rather on Simone De Beauvoir’s work The Second Sex. In order to detail the impact performed identity has on the characters, it is vital to illustrate how the performed identity becomes entrenched in their lives at an early stage. To be able to do that in an applicable, comprehensible manner I will be utilizing Beauvoir's analysis of the process of, as she describes it, becoming a woman. For both Butler and Beauvoir, there exists no gendered core to inscribe identity upon; a woman or man is inherently nothing. Yet, for an unstable, liminal identity to be possible there would need to exist certain rules, norms or expectations which the person are meant to uphold or follow to a certain degree, which could include the upholding of the belief of a gendered core identity. Gender norms, especially as illustrated in Victorian society, are a large part of why identity was such a passionate subject for authors, especially female authors and the Bronte sisters. While this text is not primarily focused on a feminist analysis, using the texts mentioned will aid in the ability to illuminate certain gender dynamics that may or may not influence their character with varying degrees of negative severity.

Additionally, there is one important aspect of the novels, which it is necessary to include in this chapter, namely narratology. The framework in which these characters can or cannot express themselves has a tremendous impact not only on their expression of identity but also on how they are understood by the reader or exist within the story. It would be a quite logical assumption that if a character has difficulty expressing what is perceived to be their true and honest feelings that their identity is left open to being misconstrued by the reader or presented in an inaccurate light by other characters or narrators. This is why examining the framework of the novel in terms of narration can be meaningful to the overall thesis, as it can uncover

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issues relating to expressing oneself which are bound in the very essence of the story. Who is telling the story, in what time and even to who can play a part in how identity is constructed, articulated and viewed by the reader, and it is, therefore, vital to view how these components play into the topic at hand.

This chapter will look at Jane's childhood up until her leaving for Lowood and Catherine's childhood up until meeting the Linton's.

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Jane’s voice

It is no surprise to anyone who has read Jane Eyre that Jane’s childhood is mostly presented as an unhappy one. The very first page of the first chapter opens up on a scene with Jane being excluded from her aunts and cousins presence until she can prove that “I was

endeavouring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable and child-like disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner – something lighter, franker, more natural as it were” (Bronte, C. 9). Situated as early as in the first introduction of Jane as a character, there is a vein in the narrative that hints at her being unnatural. Upon asking what she has done wrong, Jane is met with the reply that “There is something truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner” (Bronte, C. 9-10). Not only does this first page establish something central to the story, namely that Jane is excluded and alone, but also that she has no way to ascertain what she has done wrong in a manner that seems logical to her. From just these brief descriptions, the reader can see that Jane has a voice that is disapproved of, as it has left her outside the expected loving affections of family. The first four chapters preceding Jane’s journey to Lowood all consist of a persistent attitude of animosity towards Jane seemingly no matter what she does. This behaviour includes being locked away, scolded, and called names such as bad animal, rat and mad cat (Bronte, C. 11-15). The negative prejudices towards Jane can be analysed in terms of her establishing her voice, but also in terms of the overall thesis

concerning identity in several ways.

In her article Jane Eyre’s Childhood and Popular Children’s Literature, Judith Sloman analyses the view Victorian society held regarding children. She notes on how children were not believed to have complex inner lives, and that “Children were expected to be “agreeable”

and in that attitude had definite functions: to be a source of diversion and entertainment, to create an atmosphere of relaxation and delight, and thus to soften the lives of the careworn adults who were supporting them” (Sloman, 108). Jane is certainly held to this standard by not only her aunt, but the servants of the house as well, as she is told by Abbott “it is your place to be humble and to try to make yourself agreeable to them” (Bronte, C. 16). Jane also spends a lot of time trying to discern the reason for her continued punishment. She muses

"Why was I always suffering, always browbeaten, always accused, forever condemned? Why

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could I never please? Why was it useless to try to win anyone's favour?" (Bronte, C. 18). The Childhood chapter in Simone De Beauvoir’s The Second Sex contains a reference to how children react to being cut off from their parent's love

in a bodily form he discovers finitude, solitude, and abandonment in an alien world; he tries to compensate for this catastrophe by alienating his existence in an image whose reality and value will be established by others. It would seem that from the moment he recognises his reflection in a mirror […] he begins to affirm his identity. His self is merging with this reflection in such a way that it is formed only by alienating itself

(Beauvoir, 294) Beauvoir theorizes that children, when cut off from their parents will inevitably lose

something of themselves to a projected image, even if that image is of them as in a mirror.

There is a situation in Jane’s childhood, which relates in a particularly poignant way to this quote. When Jane is locked in her uncle’s old room, before her troubled thoughts on why she cannot please

I had to cross before the looking-glass; my fascinated glance involuntarily explored the depth it revealed. All looked colder and darker in that visionary hollow than in reality: and the strange little figure there gazing at me, with w white face and arms specking the gloom, and glittering eyes of fear moving where all else was still, had the effect of a real spirit

(Bronte, C. 18) Her exclaiming, “All said I was wicked, and perhaps I might be so”, follows this self-

reflection (Bronte, C. 19). Jane is finding an image outside her to represent her character as others see it and she is seemingly beginning to internalize the image she is presented with day after day. Charlotte is presenting Jane as having a rich inner life but is also showing her struggling with living up to the standards set by adults that do not believe in it. Jane further comments that her reflection is like that of a half fairy, half imp (Bronte, C. 18). Her reality and value, as Beauvoir puts it, is fixed in an image of something not real or opaque. Although stories and books are Jane’s refuge as a child, she cannot create a positive image for herself from them. While her reason deems her treatment as unjust (Bronte, C. 19), her imagined failing as a natural child has left her with an impression of being distinctively other. Her identity is thus conflicted and without much stability at this point in the narrative, because

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Jane has not yet established the voice of independence she so famously utilizes later in the narrative and throughout the rest of the novel.

However, the question may arise of exactly why Jane is stamped as difficult and naughty by those around her. The answer to that question lies with the misguided conduct and clear resentment in Mrs. Reed. Although this is not expressed directly via words to Jane in her childhood years, Mrs. Reed’s antipathy towards Jane is clear from her exclusion from the family, her being reduced to little less than a servant, and Mrs. Reed ordering her confinement in the red room. According to Sloman, “The adult’s love is a reward for the child’s proper behaviour” (Sloman, 108). It could be possible to make the argument that Mrs. Reed does not have as much responsibility for Jane's negative view of herself, as she is never explicitly shown either beating her like John Reed or scolding her as Bessie and Abbot do. Sloman seems to indicate that Mrs. Reed's guilt merely extends to "confuse her niece's individualistic character with the conventional image of the discontented genteel child, who in so many children's stories was presumed to be sinful and thus to deserve severe punishment" (Sloman, 111). While it may indeed be true that Mrs. Reed is operating under an accepted set of rules, which at their core is devaluing children having any form of identity, I would disagree and claim that Mrs. Reed’s dislike of Jane is clearly born out of spite and jealousy.

This is made clear when Jane reaches adulthood and is called back to her dying aunt,

whereupon Mrs. Reed reveals that she hated Jane from the moment she was brought into the family, exclaiming, “I hated it the first time I set my eyes on it – a sickly, whining, pining thing!” (Bronte, C. 267). Furthermore, Sloman also remarks that Mrs. Reed ignores any behaviour in her children which Jane is accused of, which departs her even more from the position of a misguided caregiver as she would surely be expected to at least to some degree uphold the same rules for her own children. Consequently, not only is Mrs. Reed central to Jane’s early identity issues, her actions are not derived purely from societal expectations, but merely from unjustifiable hatred. Considering these were the emotions within Mrs. Reed when Jane was in her care, it is no wonder that Jane’s image of herself is reflected as imaginary and hollow. She is being held to these specific standards not because it’s what society deemed natural at the time, but because one woman needed an outlet for her intense dislike for a child. The abuse Jane endures is however not only rooted in ideas of ideal children or family scorn, but it also comes from a deep-rooted issue concerning female existence.

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I would argue that Jane is not only disliked for her failure to appear as the natural child but also because she does not exhibit purely feminine Victorian qualities. Beauvoir writes in her Childhood chapter “One is not born, but rather becomes, woman. No biological, psychical or economic destiny defines the figure that the human female takes on in society; it is

civilisation as a whole that elaborates this intermediary product between the male and the eunuch that is called female” (Beauvoir, 293). While this idea is still debated, some research hints that Beauvoir may very well be correct in her assumption that there are no inherent differences between men and women, and that neither has a core at their self that matches their assigned sex. In a study done as early as 1997, researchers concluded, “On the surface, there do appear to be gender specific patterns of identity development. However, in reality, these differences may be most accurately described in terms of nuances rather than

exaggerated terms of dichotomous gender differences” (Lytle, Bakken, Romig, 9). They also remark on how the expectation of certain gendered behaviours and stereotypes can hinder young girls in forming a balanced identity (Lytle, Bakken, Romig, 8). However, it is important to acknowledge that while modern ideas about gender have effaced some of the lines between what is female and male, in the Victorian society, this was not the case.

Expanding upon this idea, after Jane faints in the red room and is confined to her bed, she wistfully remarks about one of her toys

To this crib I always took my doll […] I contrived to find a pleasure in loving and cherishing a faded craven image […] I could not sleep unless it was folded in my night- gown; and when it lay there safe and warm, I was comparatively happy, believing it to be happy likewise

(Bronte, C. 35).

Jane is in a lonesome situation, without a friend to whom she can confide and receive any type of affection. To remedy this, she turns to her doll for comfort. Already beginning to believe that she is a wicked child, she seems to be connecting her happiness onto the perceived happiness of an object, in a way alienating herself like she did in front of the

mirror, placing her identity in a situation where it is perceived as other. This type of behaviour

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is detailed by Beauvoir, who claims that while boys can halt their alienating of themselves previously discussed by turning the focus onto their penis, but:

A little girl cannot incarnate herself in any part of her own body. As compensation, and to fill the role of the alter ego for her, she is given a foreign object: a doll. […] The great difference is that, on one hand, the doll represents the whole body and, on the other hand, it is a passive thing. As such, the little girl will be encouraged to alienate herself in her

person as a whole and to consider it as an inert given.

(Beauvoir, 303-4)

Thus, Jane's alienating of herself can be seen not only in view of her apparent failure to be an agreeable child but also her inability to conform completely to the Victorian feminine. In The Death of Christian Britain – Understanding secularisation, Callum G. Brown notes on Victorian society that “Women were the moral linchpin of society”, and brings up a news article from The-Day Star in 1855 which advised that “The best qualities to look for in a wife are industry, humility, neatness, gentleness, benevolence and piety” (Brown, 62). There was an agreement that a woman’s very essence was pious (Brown, 61), suggesting that there was a female essence which Victorian society saw as necessary to protect. This mind-set is

displayed several times throughout the early chapters of Jane Eyre, for example when Jane overhears the following exchange between Abbot and Bessie “if she were a nice, pretty child, one might compassionate her forlornness; but one really cannot care for such a little toad as that.” To which the reply is “Not a great deal to be sure, agreed Bessie: at any rate, a beauty like Miss Georgiana would be more moving in the same condition” (Bronte, C. 31). Abbot and Bessie are here reinforcing the belief in the feminine being more sympathetic. Georgiana, who in many ways conforms to the ideal image of the feminine, not giving in to outbursts of emotion like Jane, and upholding a feminine exterior appearance has cemented herself as being the preferred female child.

Jane’s identity is certainly shown to be multi-faceted and not conforming to Victorian moral notions already in her childhood. When told that she has to speak pleasantly to be able to sit

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with her aunt and cousin, Jane retreats to a sheltered window nook with a book about birds.

While this may initially seem like genteel, Victorian type behaviour, her thoughts on the subject reveal another dimension to the situation

There were certain introductory pages that, child as I was, I could not pass quite as blank.

They were those which treat of the haunts of sea-fowl; of the solitary rocks and

promontories by them only inhabited; of the coast of Norway, studded with isles from its southern, the Lindeness, or Naze, or to the North Cape. Nor could I pass unnoticed the suggestion of the bleak shores of Lapland, Siberia, Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, Iceland, Greenland, with the vast sweep of the Arctic Zone, and those forlorn regions of dreary space

(Bronte, C. 10).

Her mind has halted shortly at these very specific images, recounted in almost excessive detail. What I believe is important about these pictures is the fact that all the places mentioned are cold, inhospitable, and bring to mind images of jagged, robust landscapes, places one would be hard-pressed to think of as expressly feminine. This quote serves to show the reader not only Jane's sensation of her place in the world, but also show how, while her outward appearance may sometimes seem to bend to Victorian ideals, it is not the whole story, and that underneath the surface are landscapes and spaces of an entirely different quality. When Jane is introduced to Mr. Brocklehurst, Mrs. Reed makes sure to note that she must be brought up in conformity to her position and prospects (Bronte, C. 42). No doubt this is intended as an assurance of her being imbued with more feminine qualities, as Patricia Thomson notes in her book Victorian Heroines that the establishment of colleges for educating governesses had the goal of "imparting female knowledge" (Thomson, 38). Mr.

Brocklehurst, upon hearing that Jane does not find psalms interesting, furthers this idea by telling Jane that “you have a wicked heart and you must pray to God to change it: to give you a new and clean one: to take away your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh” (Bronte, C. 40). This indicates that Jane is viewed as a person whose nature has been compromised, and requires guiding back to what lies in her essence, which is corroborated by Brown, who writes that women’s natural piety “only required judicious guidance and self-deliverance – a deliverance easily attained if women kept out of the world” (Brown, 61). What can be

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ascertained from examining the conditions of Jane’s early childhood is that her identity suffers under pressure from several fronts. She is neither a good child nor a good girl.

The complex inner life and thoughts which Charlotte imbued her with might be in risk of diminishing severely throughout the narrative, if not for the fact that Jane is able to establish her identity through two central means; the role of speaking and seeing narrator. Robyn R.

Warhol notes in her article “Double Gender, Double Genre in Jane Eyre and Villette ” that

“two of the most basic questions for the narratologist to ask about any given text is "Who is seeing" and "Who is speaking?" (Warhol, 859). With first-person narration, Jane undoubtedly holds both positions, but she is also in the position of being an almost all-seeing narrator, as she is narrating the story as an old woman, with the added benefits of years of lived

experience to put her childhood into a larger perspective. For example when the obvious older Jane remarks "Yes, Mrs. Reed, to you I owe some fearful pangs of mental suffering, but I ought to forgive you, for you knew not what you did" (Bronte, C. 25). Alternatively, when, in the same chapter where she laments her inability to please, the older narrator again steps in to note “I could not answer the ceaseless inward question – why I thus suffered; now, at the distance of – I will not say how many years – I see it clearly” (Bronte, C. 19). The benefit of the older Jane’s narrating sometimes making its presence known is that it adds a deeper understanding of Jane’s character, what she struggles with and how it has affected her as an adult. Although it is not present in these earliest chapters, the older Jane will eventually begin addressing the reader themselves, creating a direct line to a listener and an outlet for true emotion and identity where it might otherwise become diffuse.

A different reason the appealing directly to the reader does not appear in the earliest chapters might be to allow the younger Jane a larger arena on which to grow, without the interference of the older, wiser Jane. In order to show how Jane establishes her voice, the older narrator needs to hold back in order to prevent impeding development in the younger Jane being apparent to the reader. With the older seeing narrator keeping herself mostly away from the centre of the reader’s mind, young Jane can demonstrate how she balances her identity between all the rules and norms trying to mould her in a specific image. This battle may be best exhibited through her quarrel with Mrs. Reed. Although Jane has demonstrated what can be perceived as her aspiring true identity earlier, this argument is pivotal because it is where Jane, through clear and true expression rejects the image projected onto her right to the

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source, namely Mrs. Reed. Her outburst begins with the line “Speak I must” (Bronte, C.43), indicating that Jane’s inner conflict has reached a crisis point, and if she does not bring her voice forth at this moment, it may be in risk of languishing and dying under the pressure she has been subjected to, and her identity will remain on uncertain ground. This argument is strengthened by her immediate reaction to her own words “Ere I had finished this reply, my soul began to expand, to exult, with the strangest sense of freedom, of triumph, I ever felt. It seemed as if an invisible bond had burst, and that I had struggled out into unhoped-for liberty” (Bronte, C. 44). Jane’s boldness has rewarded her with a sense of independence, of being released from the bonds of Victorian ideas of what a child or girl should and ought to be. Although that does not mean she is completely free of their influence through the rest of the novel, it is an important step in realizing her selfhood and stabilizes her identity in a way that will aid her in future confrontations. All this is enhanced by the first-person narration, which grants the reader a necessary insight into Jane’s mind, both in present and in future.

However, not everyone sees Jane’s confrontation with Mrs. Reed as a liberation of identity and expression of something true. Sloman writes that “Janes precocious accusations of Mrs.

Reed (if not her resentment itself) are less like what a child might have said than what an adult, remembering an oppressed childhood, might wish too late that she had been able to say” (Sloman, 107). It may indeed be prudent to consider the reliability of any narrator, and as such Sloman makes a valid point. However, she has forgotten a perhaps essential part leading up to Jane’s outburst, which I will discuss directly; the influence of Mr. Loyd. When he is called to check on Jane after her incident in the red room, Jane suddenly exclaims that she is miserable (Bronte, C. 28). His response is not to dismiss her emotions but instead asking her to articulate why she is unhappy (Bronte, C. 29). Jane’s response tells the reader a lot about her difficulties with forming a voice, as the older Jane takes over for a short while to say

How much I wished to reply fully to this question! How difficult it was to frame any answer! Children can feel, but they cannot analyse their feelings; and if the analysis is partially effected in thought, they know not how to express the result of the process in words. Fearful, however, of losing this first and only opportunity of relieving my grief by imparting it, I, after a disturbed pause, contrived to frame a meagre, though, as far as it went, true response

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(Bronte, C. 29).

Even though the older Jane is seemingly in agreement with Sloman, there are a few key elements to consider. Firstly, Jane is being asked a complex emotional question for a child, and she may be very correct in stating that this was difficult for her childhood self to attempt to answer with such a short time to contemplate her answer. Secondly, although she cannot formulate an eloquent answer to this specific question, it is not unlikely that this prompting may have caused Jane to examine her emotions and thoughts with increased attention compared to before.

Mr. Loyd has seen a child in need, and has dispensed with some conventionality in an attempted to allow Jane to express herself without fear of reproach, and it would no doubt be easier for Jane to develop this skill after being met without inherent negativity. Lastly, she has three months from this meeting until her quarrel with Mrs. Reed to contemplate what Mr.

Loyd has instilled in her, a need to formulate her emotions. Her words to Mrs. Reed are in addition not of lofty eloquence or particular beauty of expression. Jane calls her bad, hard- hearted, and exclaims she will tell "anyone who asks that the very thought of you makes me sick and that you treated me with miserable cruelty" (Bronte, C. 44). Her choice of words are direct, even showing signs of child-like construction with the choice of prefixing cruelty with an adjective which does not add anything to the meaning, and most importantly as Jane states, she is merely telling the truth (Bronte, C. 44). Bringing the argument back to Sloman again, it seems slightly ironic that in an article where she argues for the complex inner lives of children and their mistreatment by adults who cannot fathom that concept, she in a way perpetuates the same attitudes by suggesting that Jane is not capable of even expressing her emotions.

Especially when considering that they are based on rather simple observation of what has been done to her, and her feeling of being mistreated.

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Catherine’s voice

Examining Catherine's childhood and her possible attempts at establishing her voice as Jane does, is not something that can be undertaken in the same manner as I did in the previous section. This is primarily because Wuthering Heights does not lend itself easily to neatly sectioned paragraphs of analysis. Warhol claims, “A Victorian women novelist exploits possibilities for doubleness that narratology’s categories can bring into the foreground”

(Warhol, 858). Although she applied this analysis to Jane Eyre, I would argue that it is just as applicable, if not increasingly so, to Wuthering Heights. While the concept of doubleness is certainly a key aspect of this thesis, with topics such as performed versus lived experience, and falling between conventional characterizations, the narratology of Wuthering Heights exemplifies this subject in such a way that it is in many respects what leads to Catherine’s unstable identity. Owing to this is the very dualities inherit in the focalization itself, as the story is told from two characters in the novel; Nelly Dean and Mr. Lockwood. An analysis of Catherine cannot be undertaken without examining how her possible identity is filtered through the first-person narration of these two characters.

Lockwood is the initial focalizer of the novel, and although it will be Nelly Dean who

recounts large parts of the story, it is on him the novel opens. Tony Tanner notes in his article

“Passion, Love and Identity in Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre” that “Emily chooses as a narrator a figure who is in all crucial respects her opposite - male, emotionally etiolated, and a product of the modern city” (Tanner, 9). Lockwood is presented as a modern, average man who is about to become involved in a story not only as a listener but as a narrator. Tanner claims that

By showing us Lockwood and Heathcliff as inhabitants of the same universe, Emily Bronte it seems to me increases the impact of her story. Because part of the force of the

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book comes from the fact that a passionate yearning for timelessness and placelessness is forced to inhabit time and place. 1801. By making us see Lockwood and Heathcliff existing in the same space, Emily Bronte can show how space can become uneasy, problematical, holding incompatibles.

(Tanner, 3) Using Lockwood as a narrator does not just accomplish what Tanner suggests though. By focusing the narration through the eyes of a character such as Lockwood, Emily is illustrating not only incompatibles in space but incompatibilities of identity. On his first meeting with Heathcliff, Lockwood is certain that the man will become his new friend, and that he is an inherently amiable fellow, though Lockwood does reprimand himself slightly, admitting that

“I bestow my own attributes over-liberally on him (Bronte, E. 6). In addition, the reader is also privy to Lockwood’s apparent inability to connect with women. He laments his reputation of heartlessness as he

was thrown into the company of a most fascinating creature, a real goddess, in my eyes, as long as she took no notice of me (…) she understood me, at last, and looked a return – the sweetest of all imaginable looks – and what did I do? I confess it with shame – shrunk icily into myself like a snail, at every glance retired colder and farther…

(Bronte, E. 6).

His behaviour proves him to be inept at discerning people’s inner lives; the narrative is instead focalized through Lockwood being unable to form an informed opinion about the identity of others, especially women. This can in part be seen when he misjudges the second Catherine’s relationship with the men of the house twice, and along with the quote on the woman he had affection for, he subsequently reveals tendencies which are discussed by Abbie L. Cory in her article “Out of My Brother’s Power”

The brief paragraph accomplishes several objectives. First, it suggests Lockwood’s objectification of women (“goddess.” “fascinating creature”) and their dehumanization through the absence of naming and description. The woman is a “creature” a “goddess” a

“poor innocent”, but she is never referred to as a girl or a woman, nor is she named or physically described. To Lockwood, women seem at times little more than ciphers.

(Cory, 13)

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Only after this build-up of the setting and seemingly misplaced narrator is the reader introduced to Catherine. As Lockwood is forced to stay the night at Wuthering Heights, he retreats into a cosy private area much like Jane does before being attacked by John Reed.

However, while Jane’s private space is utilized to illuminating facets of her identity and showing the workings beneath her perceivable external, Lockwood’s situation is focused around his discovery of the existence of Catherine, and immediately struggling with the concept of her identity. When Lockwood is attempting to rest in the oak case, he discovers “a few mildewed books piled up in the corner; and it was covered with writing scratched on the paint: this writing, however, was nothing but a name repeated in all kinds of characters, large and small – Catherine Earnshaw, here and there varied to Catherine Heathcliff and then again to Catherine Linton” (Bronte, E. 22). Upon discovering that Catherine has written in the margins of every book he finds, Lockwood asserts, “An immediate interest kindled within me for the unknown Catherine, and I began forthwith, to decipher her faded hieroglyphics”

(Bronte, E. 23). Instead of having a character reveal their inner self to the reader, Lockwood becomes the translator, who instead decides that he will “decipher the hieroglyphs” by himself and read Catherine's so-called diary.

The continued display by Lockwood of referring to women in a way which does not promote their identity perpetuates what Beauvoir refers to as the myth of woman. She discusses how

“to posit the woman is to posit the absolute Other, without reciprocity, refusing, against experience, that she could be a subject, a peer” (Beauvoir, 275.) Lockwood is certainly guilty of this behaviour, as he after his nightmare – in which he sees the ghostly apparition of Catherine - exclaims to Heathcliff that the house is “swarming with ghosts and goblins” and

“that minx, Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw or however she was called – she must have been a changeling – wicked little soul!” (Bronte, E. 31). Even when given three names to choose from, Lockwood persists in a kind of dehumanizing of Catherine by linking her name to the supernatural. Beauvoir expands on this by noting “Of all these myths, none is more anchored in masculine hearts than the feminine ‘mystery’. It has numerous advantages. And first it allows an easy explanation of anything that is inexplicable” (Beauvoir, 277.) No doubt disturbed by the nature of his dreams, Lockwood immediately retreats to the idea of woman presenting something indiscernible, as he refuses to meet the ghost’s gaze as well.

Though it is difficult to say which novel was written to completion first, Wuthering Heights or Jane Eyre, it could be interesting to look at Catherine's scrawled diary entry, as a means to show the reader that her situation is not only sympathetic but also quite like Jane's. In the very

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short while that Catherine is allowed to narrate in the novel, there are several similarities shown between her and Jane’s situation. She calls Hindley a tyrant and notes how “we used to be permitted to play, if we did not make much noise; now a mere titter is enough to send us into corners!” (Bronte, E. 24). Hindley insists on natural childlike behaviour much like Mrs.

Reed does towards Jane, and in addition, Jane calls John Reed a tyrant. Catherine also recounts how Hindley “seizing one of us by the collar, and the other by the arm, hurled both into the back kitchen; where, Joseph asseverated, “owd Nick” would fetch us as sure as we were living” (Bronte, E. 25). This scene is much like the one where Jane is locked in the red room, and Abbot threatens that “if you don’t repent, something bad might be permitted to come down the chimney and fetch you away” (Bronte, C. 16). Like Jane, Catherine is able to show how she too suffers under the restraints of what a child should be. Sloman writes how

“There is such disproportion between the child’s misbehaviour and its consequences, that quirks of temperament or behaviour seem tantamount to sin, and that disturbing the peace within the family seems capable of disturbing the social fabric itself” (Sloman, 110). Indeed, physical violence coupled with the threat of being taken away by Satan for throwing a book seems to indicate that the strict rules imposed on children are being forced to a severe degree on Catherine. Still, like Jane, she seems not without the spirit to combat her treatment, as one of the first sentences Lockwood reads is “H. and I are going to rebel – we took our initiatory step this evening” (Bronte, E. 23). Through this rather constrained introduction to Catherine, the reader may discern that she and Jane hold similarities in character, as they both upset the social fabric, although in slightly different manners.

Furthermore, the irony does not go unnoticed that Catherine has inscribed her only narrative voice in the entire novel in the margins of books, whereas Jane has the ability to open a book in order to gain better insight into herself or reveal her character to the reader. Jane's identity is not resigned to the edges of novels. She is her book, as Tanner points out (Tanner, 9.) Warhol also remarks on the nature of Jane Eyre’s first person narration with a quote from Genette “these novels present situations where the narrator cannot be an ordinary walk-on in his narrative, he can only be the star” (Warhol, 859). Jane is indeed the star of her own novel, and it can be said to be marked not only by her control of information but also her way of infusing other stories with herself at her own terms. Viewing Catherine’s scrawlings,

Lockwood asserts that “Catherine’s library was select, and its state of dilapidation proved it to have been well used, though not altogether for a legitimate purpose” (Bronte, E. 23). It seems a little odd that while Lockwood will be recounting the whole story of Wuthering Heights - as

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told to him by Nelly Dean – in his journal, that he should so call into question the legitimacy of writing a story, even if it is in the margins of other books. Beth Newman has an interesting addition to this line of thought in her article “gender, narration and gaze in Wuthering

Heights”, when she says that

The role of onlooker, the conventional position of the masculine spectator with respect to the feminine spectacle, is in this novel precisely the situation of the narrator – specifically, of the narrator as voyeur defending himself against the threat of the feminine by

objectifying a woman, by telling her story, writing it down in his diary, and seeking in his oblique way to make it – and her – his own.

(Newman, 1034) Newman’s theory ties in wonderfully with Cory’s exploration of the female gaze, as her theory derives much content from Newman. Lockwood must establish himself as something more than an onlooker, and any way of invalidating Catherine’s own narration aids him in that goal.

Building on this argument is the fact that Lockwood sees the ghost of Catherine as a child. I would argue this is because, in the narrative sense, he has intruded on her chance of

establishing her voice in childhood as Jane did. Considering the fact that Catherine is a main character, it is not unlikely for a reader to expect a certain presentation of her character, one that may make her identity at the very least tangible and consistent. Instead, her identity has been marooned to the sides of other stories. Again, in his dream he still cannot meet the gaze of the ghost, Cory notes that the situation “stands as another instance in the pattern of the disrupting nature of the female gaze, potentially reversing power relations between the genders” (Cory, 16). In response, Lockwood says that “Terror made me cruel […] I pulled its wrist on to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down…” (Bronte, E.

29). Tanner also writes "It is notable that he tries to keep her out by piling up books to block up the gap in the window, trying to use print to stem the penetration of passion. He dreads any possibility of emotional leakage, any threat to his snail's shell.” (Tanner, 12). Although

Tanner makes a fair point of Lockwood wishing to hold on to his current emotional state, I would argue that it is his fear of losing his narrative power, which drives him to commit a seemingly heinous and explicit act of violence, coupled with utilizing books in order to shield him from Catherine’s ghost. Even by describing his treatment of the ghostly Catherine in

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detail, Lockwood asserts his dominance in the narrative. He shows no remorse over his treatment of the waif because his actions are a means to personal gain and protection for him.

Cory claims that his actions “exposes the response of the dominant classes to gender and class based rebellion” (Cory, 15), and her line of thought resonates well with what has been

discerned about Lockwood thus far. Lockwood is fearful of any disturbance to the role he is insistent on keeping, and will apparently go to any lengths to conserve it.

It is interesting that in projecting an image of the spectre child in his dream of Catherine, Lockwood creates an allusion, which is in many ways similar to what Jane sees as herself in her reflection when locked in the red room. A key difference to note between these two spectres is that while one character may see this image themselves and combat the image by asserting herself in the narrative, the other has it imposed on her by a man who is already adhering to static ideas of female and has no prior knowledge or insight into her character.

Already this early on in Wuthering Heights is it made abundantly clear that the narrative style undermines Catherine’s identity. Lockwood being presented as a first-person narrator like this, the emotionally stunted English gentleman in rough country, is a fascinating example of how Emily exposes the constraints of female identity. Catherine is relegated to a sphinx-like mystery by Lockwood, her various names swimming before him, teetering on the edge of being told, but disappearing into the conventionality and othering of women common in Victorian England.

As the narrative reigns are being handed over to Nelly Dean, she asks Lockwood how he feels about her master, to which he replies "A rough fellow, rather, Mrs. Dean. Is not that his character?" (Bronte, E. 40), and she answers affirmatively to this, but the question is an interesting one. Just prior to it, Nelly Dean asks how Catherine (the second) is doing,

intimating that she does not go to Wuthering Heights, and all she has told Lockwood so far is that she came to the house when her mistress was married. She says that Heathcliff simply retained her when he took over the property, which could well indicate that she has had little to no dealings with Heathcliff and has no real reason to have any insights into his character.

The question thus seems like a small form of metalepsis, as if Lockwood is aware that he must now leave the primary storytelling to Nelly Dean, and is affirming that he has presented the right image of Heathcliff. While not pertaining directly to Catherine, this exchange marks a twisting of the narrative that could pose a serious threat to how Catherine is portrayed and

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calls into question the honesty or intentions of those who control it, namely Lockwood and Nelly Dean.

As a narrator, Nelly Dean can certainly be said to conform to Victorian ideals. She makes sure the reader and Lockwood are aware of her accomplishments in the domestic sphere before she even deigns to introduce Catherine in any detail. When Catherine, Heathcliff and Hindley take ill, Nelly is quick to remark how she has "take[n] on the cares of a woman" (Bronte, E.

44), additionally, when the children recover, the doctor "affirmed it was a great measure owing to me, and praised me for my care" (Bronte, E. 45). Thus, Nelly has created an image of herself as a benign caregiver, an angel of the domestic sphere, the perfect Victorian Servant and exceedingly agreeable where female ideals are concerned. She furthers this impression by recounting the mischief Catherine and Heathcliff would get into, and how “many a time I’ve cried to myself to watch them growing more reckless daily, and I not daring to speak a syllable for fear of losing the small power I still retained over the unfriended creatures”

(Bronte, E. 54). Nelly is painting herself as a sort of Mrs. Reed type character, with her goal being only to correct behaviour in Catherine and Heathcliff, which was not deemed pleasing to the adults. Leicester Bradner seems to indicate that there are no issues with Nelly Dean as a narrator, remarking in his article “the growth of Wuthering Heights” that “Nellie Dean, kind- hearted but placid in her feelings, independent of the family but united to it by ties of loyalty, is exactly the person to tell the story of the fate of the Earnshaws” (Bradner, 145). There is some truth to Bradner’s statement. As a demonstration of Emily Bronte’s mastery of the novel as a medium, her expert skills at constructing narratives within narratives and convey a

compelling story with several narrators, Nelly Dean is a great choice. I would respectfully disagree; however, by arguing that Nelly Dean as a focalizer shows some concerning tendencies towards Catherine, and joins Lockwood in suppressing her voice. Partly, this is because she fits some of the negative Mrs. Reed characteristics by displaying a dislike to Catherine that goes deeper than simply wanting to correct a child. She adds to this image by noting how “I’ve had many a laugh at her (Catherine) perplexities and untold troubles, which she vainly strove to hide from my mockery. That sounds ill-natured – but she was so proud, it became really impossible to pity her distress, till she could be chastened into more humility”

(Bronte, E. 78). She also admits to Lockwood that “I did not love her, and rather relished mortifying her vanity” (Bronte, E. 82). Her actions to correct Catherine seems to spring mostly from the fact that she does not like her, and takes some pleasure in creating distress for

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her. Furthermore, these first few chapters describing Catherine’s childhood contain almost no sentences that are narrated in such a way as to be expressed by Catherine herself. Almost everything the reader learns about Catherine comes from indirect references or descriptions of her courtesy of Nelly. As such, Catherine is again barred from establishing a voice apparent to the reader at a critical moment of her development as a person.

In the first real detailed description of Catherine, Nelly seems to attempt to justify her behaviour towards her, as she narrates

Certainly, she had ways with her such as I never saw a child take up before; and she put us all past our patience fifty times and oftener a day: from the hour she came down stairs, till the hour she went to bed, we had not a minute’s security that she wouldn’t be in mischief.

Her spirits were always at highwater mark, her tongue always going – singing, laughing and plaguing everybody who would not do the same. A wild, wick slip she was – but, she had the bonniest eye, and sweetest smile, and lightest foot in the parish; and, after all, I believe she meant no harm

(Bronte, E. 48)

It would seem that some of Catherine's apparent flaws are mediated by the fact that she seems to exhibit qualities that appeal to the Victorian ideals. She is described as pretty and a skilled dancer, and it is only after dwelling on these qualities that Nellie Dean ascertains that she most likely meant no harm in her mischief. This is interesting when paired with the fact that Nelly can refer to almost no concrete situations where Catherine has behaved badly or caused mischief. One of her few remarks is that of Catherine “defying us with her bold, saucy look”

(Bronte, E. 49), which again brings back the concept of the female gaze. The problem seems to lie not with clear proofs of reprehensible conduct from Catherine, but rather Nelly’s reaction to facets of character in a person she strongly dislikes. Going back to her description of Catherine, it can be argued that it – when taking all my arguments into account - reveals a key issue with the narrative control of this novel, namely that although Nelly Dean strongly dislikes Catherine, she cannot fully commit to a negative presentation of her because her

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conduct cannot be stated as beyond saving for Nelly’s feelings and actions towards her to be justified. So as much as she might like to paint Catherine as the blackest villain, she still defers to certain key Victorian ideals to soften her impression and reinforce the image of herself as a positive parental figure, someone whose interest it is to preserve and support the positive aspects of Catherine’s character. As such, there is a certain doubleness inherit in Nelly’s narrative voice, which will be explored further in chapter two.

Chapter conclusion

The morals and norms of Victorian society are quite apparent in terms of the struggles faced by Catherine and Jane, as their voices have trouble finding even ground amidst all the expectations heaped upon them.

I have shown how Jane is able to find her voice through several outlets, and has help in articulating the truth of her emotions which aids her in her ultimate control of the narrative.

While Jane Eyre may be her book, she has shown how useful other books can be in establishing identity in a hostile environment, and how the genuine aid of others can be crucial in the maintaining of the self.

On the other hand, I have argued that Catherine’s position in the narrative bars her from establishing her voice like Jane, and although the two characters seem rather similar from the little the reader is allowed to glimpse of Catherine’s identity, Emily Bronte does not treat one of her main characters with the same consideration for identity that Charlotte bestows upon Jane.

The sources used in this chapter have helped illuminate underlying issues with both novels, be it on a technical narrative level, or in terms of abiding/transgressing against society norms.

The idea of gender issues as an important aspect of identity being strengthened or weakened as it ties in with the roles prevalent in society is an important argument to keep in mind, as neither Catherine or Jane are free of its influence yet.

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Chapter 2 – Identity and Gender performativity

Now that a basis of how this thesis is handling the topic of identity and gender as an influence on the establishing of it in both novels, it is necessary to show how these topics continue to influence Catherine and Jane beyond the initial childhood years. While I have utilized

Beauvoir to show how presupposed notions of gender affect the characters and their means of establishing and maintaining their identities, it is the goal of this chapter to show how the idea of gender itself as performance continue to impact the way in which Jane and Catherine are perceived and express themselves. To do this, I will be using Judith Butler’s famous work Gender Trouble, which illustrates perfectly the issues of the presumption of gender and behaviour set to a certain standard to express that gender in a culturally appropriate and acknowledged way.

It is the goal of this chapter to explore how the first chapter’s building or barring of the character’s voices are elaborated upon when faced with the idea of gender being intrinsically linked with sex, meaning that what is perceived as a female form is culturally expected to perform female deeds. In the case of Jane, I will be examining how Lowood Institution upholds this idea of gender in terms with Victorian ideals and how Jane is able to see through the illusion, aided by Helen and Miss Temple, all the while building on her own voice. For Catherine, I will analyse how the gendered expectations for both masculine and feminine cement themselves in the narrative style of Nelly Dean, and how she continues to attack Catherine’s identity with her own internalized ideas about what it means to be man or woman, and how that gendered identity best manifests itself in one’s character. I will argue that Nelly Dean’s insistence on a gendered core and matching behaviour is in part what fractures Catherine’s identity to the point of no return, causing her to die midway through the novel.

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Applying Butler

Before undertaking any detailed analysis, it is important to attempt to ascertain exactly what it is Butler is trying to convey in her work, before attempting to apply it to the two novels. Since I have already used Simone de Beauvoir in my analysis, it seems prudent to begin with how Butler takes one of Beauvoir’s concepts and builds on it for her own analysis. She states that

Simone de Beauvoir suggests in The Second Sex “one is not born woman, but, rather, becomes one.” For Beauvoir, gender is “constructed,” but implied in her formulations is an agent, a cogito, who somehow takes on or appropriates that gender and could, in principle, take on some other gender. Is gender as variable and volitional as Beauvoir’s account seems to suggest? Can “construction” in such a case be reduced to a form of choice?

Beauvoir is clear that one “becomes” a woman, but always under a cultural compulsion to become one. And clearly, the compulsion does not come from “sex”. There is nothing in her account that guarantees that the “one” who becomes a woman is necessarily female.

(Butler, 11)

Here, Butler has laid the groundwork for her analysis of gender, suggesting that ideas of gender and sex do not necessarily match, and acts of female or male gender do not need to be expressed by a person with the corresponding sex. However, much of her analysis is

concerned with the idea of this not being applicable to society, as society does not seem to hold with her findings in general. She goes on to argue “persons only become intelligible through becoming gendered in conformity with recognizable standards of gender

intelligibility” (Butler, 22). She furthers this argument by adding

Inasmuch as ‘identity’ is assured through the stabilizing concepts of sex, gender and sexuality, the very notion of ‘ the person’ is called into question by the cultural emergence of those ‘incoherent’ or ‘discontinuous’ gendered beings who appear to be person but who fail to conform to the gendered norms of cultural intelligibility by which persons are defined

(Butler, 23).

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Like Beauvoir, Butler calls into question the legitimacy of ascribing certain behavioural patterns to a sexed body as their signifying identity. As I discussed in chapter one, where Lockwood cannot make out the identity of women, he is employing lines of thought rejected by both Butler and Beauvoir. The intelligibility and reluctance of Lockwood to acknowledge women on equal terms might be said to stem from his notions of feminine mystery, thus supposing a gendered core that men cannot penetrate. To both Butler and Beauvoir, the belief in such a core and gendered expression halts the perception of any identity, if anything a person does is simply put into the categories of conforming or not conforming to the gendered behaviour their sex suggests they should partake in. Butler explains this by writing

The substantive effect of gender is performatively produced and compelled by the regulatory practices of gender coherence. Hence, within the inherited discourse of the metaphysics of substance, gender proves to be performative – that is, constituting the identity it is purported to be. In this sense, gender is always a doing, though not a doing by a subject who might be said to pre-exist the deed

(Butler, 34) This does not mean that Butler believes the actions of any person are inherently a

performance like that in a play, that any exhibition of particular qualities thought to be feminine or masculine is faked. What she means is that what is important is not to inscribe someone with an inherent gender, but instead look to his or her actions to make up the whole person, whatever qualities they may possess. Butler refers to Nietzsche’s idea that “the doer is merely a fiction added to the deed – the deed is everything” (Buter, 34). In her 1999

introduction to her book, Butler explains some of her theory in added detail

The anticipation of an authoritative disclosure of meaning is the means by which that authority is attributed and installed: the anticipation conjures its object. I wondered

whether we do not labour under a similar expectation concerning gender, that it operates as an interior essence that might be disclosed, an expectation that ends up producing the very phenomenon it anticipates […] Secondly, performativity is not a singular act, but a

repetition and a ritual, which achieves its effects through its naturalization in the context of a body, understood, in part, as a culturally sustained temporal duration […] The view that gender is performative sought to show that what we take to be an internal essence of gender is manufactured through a sustained set of acts, posited through the gendered

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stylization of the body. In this way, it showed that what we take to be an “internal” feature of ourselves is one that we anticipate and produce through certain bodily acts, at an

extreme, an hallucinatory effect of naturalized gestures

(Butler, XV – Xvi) Butler thus argues that gender is in a way a self-fulfilling prophecy created by society. One might express certain gendered behaviours because of internalized expectations that are sustained over a period of time. The line between what we do because it is part of us versus what we do as a response to gender expectations can as a result be slightly blurred and not easily discerned. Having explored Butler’s theory, it will now be easier to apply its content to the narratives of Catherine and Jane in order to see how and if this theory may be applied to their construction of an identity. In addition, to what extent it might affect their identity and whether they manage to hold onto their selves without succumbing to believing, certain things are natural to them as a specific gendered body.

Jane in gender performance

As discussed in chapter one, Jane has already been able to battle with the notions of female gender behaviour and core identity. On some level, she has managed to come out victorious, as seen in her argument with Mrs. Reed. Still, it seems very a very natural addition to Jane’s narrative so far when Arnold Shapiro writes in his article “In Defense of Jane Eyre” that “One of the things Charlotte Bronte is protesting against most in this opening section of the novel is